


only in the way you want it

by RaisingCaiin



Series: RC's Kink Bingo 2018 [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Implied Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor/Sauron | Mairon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 16:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15489489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaisingCaiin/pseuds/RaisingCaiin
Summary: Some nights, Annatar comes to Tyelperinquar’s rooms with a faraway look in his eyes.It does not happen often, but when it does, he is in a particular mood that Tyelperinquar cannot trace or fathom.





	only in the way you want it

**Author's Note:**

> [for the 'worship' square on my kink bingo card]

Some nights, Annatar comes to Tyelperinquar’s rooms with a faraway look in his eyes. It does not happen often, but when it does, he is in a particular mood that Tyelperinquar cannot trace or fathom.

He has his suspicions, of course, but ultimately it doesn’t matter. Tyelperinquar is no fool: he knows that he cannot really be the first the Maia ever slept with, or even loved, despite all his early teasing to the contrary. Surely at some point a being as radiant as Annatar would have had suitors, lovers, better suited to his true station than Tyelperinquar himself is, and really Tyelperinquar is honored that Annatar will still come to him whenever some spectral other whom he surely lost occupies the Maia’s mind.

He cannot help but wonder, though. Because when Annatar comes to him this way – hesitant, speaking not a single word and seemingly reluctant to touch Tyelperinquar unless Tyelperinquar steps forward and touches him first – the Maia does not love him so much as worship him. On such nights, when Tyelperinquar does open his arms in welcome, Annatar steps forward to join him nearly a different creature.

Most nights, Tyelperinquar has learned by now, Annatar prefers to play. He has a thousand masks – every shade of coquette and tease and genteel rogue that Tyelperinquar could have ever imagined and many more besides – but by the end he will usually drop the pretense and laugh, kiss, cry his delight as honestly as Tyelperinquar does.

But on these rare nights, there is no mask. Annatar comes to him already naked, some fervor that Tyelperinquar cannot name shining in his face, but despite the raw honesty of it Annatar also seems to shake for being exposed. It is as if he is waiting for some judgment that he knows he cannot escape – and one that he is not particularly certain he wants to.

Tyelperinquar does not know what to make of it. So he tries to take his cues from what Annatar expects.

But it can be difficult. Because it so _different_.

These nights, when Annatar kneels, it is with none of his usual grace, his laughing protests that the floor is too hard, the bed too far, Tyelperinquar himself too tall. No – he kneels as if he never expected to be given the chance.

And these nights, when he takes Tyelperinquar in his mouth, it is with none of his gentle mockery or teasing protest. He does not play with his teeth, sending jolts of genuine shock and unexpected pleasure down Tyelperinquar’s spine; he does not pull off to catch his breath or provide wry commentary on Tyelperinquar’s movements. No – he attends to Tyelperinquar with lips and tongue and the softest of moans until Tyelperinquar is gasping from the sounds he makes as much as the sensations he brings.

And these nights, when he can finally be coaxed to stand again, guided gently to Tyelperinquar’s bed, Annatar does not push but he makes it clear that he expects to be taken, no matter what else they have already done. Sometimes, reaching down to try and prepare him, Tyelperinquar will find that Annatar is already slick and open, having prepared himself before he even came to Tyelperinquar’s rooms.

It is odd, odd, odd, and Annatar himself acknowledges it only once. But even then, the words do not seem meant for Tyelperinquar himself.

“Why would you permit me this?” His words are so soft, and said so close to Tyelperinquar’s shivering, sweat-slick skin, that Tyelperinquar nearly does not hear them at all. “You, of all who are, and me, of all whom you could choose?”

But since he does. . .

“Because I love you?” Tyelperinquar returns, just as quietly. “And because it is no hardship at all to be worshipped by you, but a privilege and a joy.”

But just this once his words seem to break through whatever memory has its hold upon his lover, and Annatar looks at him with such utter bewilderment that Tyelperinquar nearly recoils.

Had this former lover never said such things to him, then? To Annatar, who is deserving of all that is best in Ilúvatar’s creation and whatever more there may be besides?

But even as Tyelperinquar tries to rally himself Annatar is already sitting up and gathering his clothes, slipping into them with his usual grace, and Tyelperinquar knows that the moment to ask is gone. Tomorrow they will be back to their usual work and debate, and tomorrow night he will go to Annatar or Annatar will come him and it will be as if this never happened at all.

And if this is what Annatar needs, sometimes, than Tyelperinquar doesn’t mind. He wasn’t lying when he said that it wasn’t a hardship.

But all the same – Tyelperinquar cannot help but wonder.

**Author's Note:**

> . . . yes, that title is a Vampire Weekends lyric, I regret nothing


End file.
